


An Awfully Big Adventure

by wiltedviolets



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Babysitting, Cotton Candy Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid Kirk, Kid Spock, Kid Uhura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedviolets/pseuds/wiltedviolets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Leonard McCoy found out he’d been handpicked out of all of the Starfleet JROTC members in the country for a very special, very important assignment by Captain Winona Kirk herself, he wasn't exactly expecting it to involve babysitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Aboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadgerInMySoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadgerInMySoup/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have [BadgerInMySoup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerinmysoup) to thank for putting this into my head, and my own self to blame for what was meant to be a fluffly little drabble getting wildly out of hand. She also beta-read the first chapter for grammatical and stylistic errors. All remaining errors are mine.

When Leonard McCoy found out he’d been handpicked out of all of the Starfleet JROTC members in the country for a very special, very important assignment by Captain Winona Kirk herself, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. What exactly the _U.S.S. Legacy_ needed with one Junior Cadet — _basic first aid and CPR training encouraged but not required_  — for a three month space voyage, he hadn’t the damnedest idea. His first thought was that it involved working in Sick Bay — the Starfleet equivalent of a candy striper, maybe — but it hadn’t been specific to cadets aspiring to take the medical track, and besides, one cadet wouldn’t be that much help on a crew of several hundred Starfleet officers.

He was also pretty sure that if he were just cleaning bedpans and washing sheets that he wouldn’t be scheduled to rendezvous with _the Captain herself _ before boarding the ship. Unless Starfleet is so short-staffed that they to pull in high schoolers to use as yeomen, he can’t imagine what the captain needs to see him about that’s that important.

The spaceport is huge, probably bigger than his whole hometown put together, and he wishes, briefly, that he had more time before the  _ Legacy _ ’s launch. Of course, that might also have something to do with the fact that he’s never actually been on a Starship before, and considering that he can’t get on a rollercoaster without throwing up, he has a feeling he’s not going to do well going faster than the speed of light. .

If he’d known he would actually get picked for the damn mission he would have — well, no, actually. He still probably would have applied. But he would have been pretty damn tempted not to.

He would have to be as blind as a Orion firebat not to see Winona Kirk. She’s a tall, imposing woman, resplendent in the command gold tunic-and-slacks that’s usually reserved for male officers,  but  that’s not quite unusual enough to be noteworthy all on its own. No, what really catches his eye is who she’s talking to. Standing across from her is an honest-to-god, in-the-flesh Vulcan, pointed ears and all. There’s a woman beside him. Her ears are covered by her scarf and he can’t see her eyebrows from where he is, but there’s a small Vulcan child glued to her side. Probably a Vulcan, then.

It takes about ten seconds for Winona Kirk to notice him. He straightens his spine and pushes his shoulders back in response. He can’t hear her over the commotion, but he swears he sees her laugh before waving him over. He makes a hesitant step forward and she motions more sharply.

He ducks through the crowd in three long strides, coming to stand between Captain Kirk and the Vulcan child, who eyes him with an indiscernible expression.

“You — you’re Leonard McCoy, aren’t you, Cadet?” the Captain asks, turning away from the Vulcan to study him.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, suddenly aware of four sets of eyes watching him. He resists the urge to fidget.

Captain Kirk wrinkles her nose at that. “Don’t  _ ma’am _ me, Cadet. It makes me feel old. Just  _Captain_ will do, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, Ma—” he starts, then corrects himself. “Yes, Captain.” 

The other woman — the woman with the Vulcan child — laughs, warm and melodious. It’s not a sound he would have associated with a Vulcan woman. “Such manners, Winona,” she coos, looking back at the Captain. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Right, of course.” Winona Kirk grins and claps him hard on the shoulder, as if she’s known him for years. “Cadet McCoy, this is Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan.”

The Ambassador makes no expression but nods his head in acknowledgment, holding up his hand with his fingers  spread  in a wide ‘V’. A Vulcan salute, he supposes, and does his best to match the gesture. He isn’t fully successful — his middle and ring fingers don’t want to stay apart — but Captain Kirk gives him an encouraging smile for the attempt.

“And this is Amanda, his wife, and Spock, their son.” Captain Kirk’s gaze flicks back to him. “Amanda and I were roommates at the academy,” she adds, which is probably her way of confirming what he’s already guessed: that Amanda is every bit as human as he is.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leonard.” Amanda reaches out to shake his hand. “We’re very pleased to have you on board.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs.—?”

“Just Amanda, please,” she says, her voice full of fond exasperation. She pats his hand. “You’ve no need to stand on ceremony with me. And besides…” She smiles wryly. “I doubt you could pronounce my married surname, even if you wanted to.”

He doesn’t miss the sour look the child — Spock, the Captain called him — gives him. Or rather, seems to be giving their hands. He’s not sure whether it’s a Vulcan thing or a kid thing, but he politely extracts his hand from hers either way.

“Spock, do not be rude,” Ambassador Sarek says. His voice is deep and sonorous, and though his tone is  gentle , it rings of command. “Introduce yourself to Cadet McCoy.”

Spock untangles himself from Amanda’s legs and tilts his chin up. “I am Spock, son of Sarek, of House Surak.”

“Oh yeah?” Leonard squats down on the floor so that they’re eye to eye. He might be a Vulcan, or half-Vulcan, or whatever, but he’s still a kid. “How old’re you, Spock?”

“I am point-six-two-nine Vulcan years past my Kahs-wan,” Spock says, and Leonard can’t tell if the kid expects him to actually know what that means or if he’s deliberately trying to be a pain in the ass. Probably the second, if his experiences with Human kids are anything to go off of.

“He’s eight in human years,” Amanda supplies, helpfully.

“Eight-point-three-five-seven,” Spock corrects her. 

“So you're about eight and a half, then," Leonard says. "I have a cousin around your age. 'Course I'm sure you're not as interested in tea parties as she is.”

“That is not a precise measurement.” Spock looks back over at him then. His face is almost expressionless, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes, a curiosity. “Also, I do not understand the correlation between my age and festivities for the consumption of tea.”

Amanda laughs and ruffles Spock’s hair. “Come on, dear. We should get to the ship. I’m sure Captain Kirk and Cadet McCoy have important things to discuss.” She smiles at him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Leonard. We’ll see you both onboard.”

“Captain Kirk, by your leave,” Sarek says. He and Amanda press two fingers together before disappearing into the crowd.

Captain Kirk watches them go, then glances back at Leonard. “Well, Cadet, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Lieutenant Commander Swan.” She starts walking toward the dock, and he follows in step right behind her. “This isn’t a dangerous mission, but it is an important one.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, what am I gonna be doing on the  _ Legacy_?” 

She laughs at that. “What, you didn’t read your briefing, Cadet?”

“Briefing?” Leonard asks, and Captain Kirk stops dead in her tracks, the smile fading off of her face.

“Lieutenant Commander Swan didn’t give you your mission briefing.”

“No, Ma’am,” he admits.

“I swear, that woman would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her —” The captain stops and shakes her head. “Sorry, Cadet, it’s not your fault. She’s a good woman, but there’s a reason she’s teaching JROTC cadets in Georgia instead of working on a Starship.” She gives him a wan smile. “Not that there’s anything  _ wrong _ with Georgia, mind you. There’s not just a lot of call for Starfleet officers out there. I guess this means I’ll just have to brief you on the ship. I’ll comm the ship and have my yeoman meet us in the transporter room with a PADD for you.”

“Transporter?” he repeats. He can practically feel all of his blood rush to his feet.

“What, did you think we were going to walk onto the ship, Cadet?” She grins and flips open her communicator. “Kirk to  _ Legacy _ . Two to beam up.”

He feels the moment his atoms are ripped apart, and when he’s finally put back together again, he throws up on transporter pad.

* * *

Thankfully it doesn’t take much to convince Captain Kirk that he doesn’t need to go to Sickbay, he just needs to sit down for a minute because he feels a little like someone just cracked open his insides and scrambled them — which, to be fair, isn’t that far from the truth — and he’s about ten seconds away from asking for a tricorder so that he can make sure they didn’t lose any of his organs back on the spaceport when the captain hands him a glass of water from the replicator.

“The first time’s always the worst.” Her voice is sympathetic, and it makes him feel a little better about it. “There’s a reason they don’t like pregnant people or kids under twelve use the transporter. It’s kind of like a rollercoaster, if rollercoasters disassembled you and put you back together when you rode them.”

A young man in a red shirt walks into the room and hands a PADD to the Captain, who glances at it briefly before passing it to Leonard. “This is the briefing on your responsibilities while aboard the  _ Legacy _ . You’ll be required during Alpha and sometimes Beta shift. Other than that, your time is your own. Your official duties don’t start until tomorrow, which should give you time to settle in and find your space legs.”

“Captain, Commander Barrett said to tell you you’re needed on Deck Six as soon as possible,” the crewman says, his hands folded behind his back at parade rest.

“With all due respect to my first officer, isn’t this something that the Commander can handle on her own?” The Captain crosses her arms over her chest.  “It can’t be that urgent if I wasn’t commed about it immediately, and I’d specifically cleared an hour prior to launch so that I could welcome our new cadet.”

“It’s nothing terribly urgent, no, Captain. Normally Commander Barrett would handle anything that came up,  but she believes this is a matter only which only you can resolve. There’s been—” His gaze flicks briefly to Leonard. He hesitates for a moment. “There’s been — a replicator malfunction on Deck Five. In your quarters, Captain.”

“A replicator malfunc—” A look of understanding slowly dawns on her face. “Replicator malfunction. In my quarters.”

“Yes, Captain,” the crewman says politely.

“And I take it Commander Barrett has apprehended the culprit responsible for it?” the Captain asks, with an almost conspiratorial grin.

“Yes, Captain,” the crewman repeats. His grin matches hers, and Leonard is suddenly very sure that he is missing something from the exchange. 

“Well, I suppose I’d better go rescue the Commander. I hope I can trust you with giving Cadet McCoy the tour of our lovely little ship, Yeoman?” At the yeoman’s ‘Aye, Captain’, she looked back over at Leonard. “Yeoman Anderson is going to show you around. He’ll answer any questions you have, if he can. You’ll rendezvous with me tonight at fourteen hundred hours in the Officer’s Mess.”

“Aye, Captain,” he responds.

Captain Kirk starts to leave the transporter room, but pauses at the door. “And Cadet McCoy?” She beams back at him. “Welcome aboard the  _Legacy_. ”

* * *

Yeoman Anderson shows him the mess, the rec rooms, the gym, and explains how to work the comms and the turbolift, which work more or less the same as the ones in his school. He says that normally minors aren’t allowed on the bridge or in engineering, but since he’s a cadet and therefore not technically a civilian, Captain Kirk is giving him clearance to both.

They visit Sickbay for his mandatory check-in, which is nothing to him compared to the transporter, but Yeoman Anderson hovers nervously near the door until the pretty brunette nurse laughs and promises him that Dr. Gold is on the bridge with the captain.

“You’re afraid of doctors?” he asks, Yeoman Anderson grimaces.

“Not  _ doctors _ ,” he says. “Just Dr. Gold, and trust me, you’ll understand when you meet him.”

The nurse runs a medical tricorder over him a few times then clears him for duty, at which point Yeoman Anderson seems anxious to get as far away from Sickbay as possible.

“Don’t  ever  get sick,” Yeoman Anderson warns. “Trust me.”

Leonard feels the ship lurch as they switch from impulse power to warp and has to lean against the bulkhead to keep from collapsing onto the ground, and the yeoman gives him a sympathetic look.

“It takes a little while to get your spacelegs,” Yeoman Anderson says. “The first time I flew on a ship at warp was when I was thirteen. I spent the whole first day curled up in my quarters with my head between my knees to keep from throwing up. That was an older class starship, though — these Constitution class starships are a lot smoother than the old Kelvin class ones they used to fly.”

Yeoman Anderson taps out a code on a number pad in front of one of the doors.

“Please give authorization code,”  the computer demands.

“Yeoman authorization code: Anderson-Eleven-One-Five-Mu-Alpha. Set cadet authorization: McCoy-Nine-One-Thirteen-Mu-Alpha.” Yeoman Anderson looks back at McCoy. “Remember that. It’s your access code for your room, the replicators, and everything else on the ship that requires authorization to use. If you forget it, it’s on your PADD, or you can ask me, the captain, or one of the other yeomen. You _could_ also ask Commander Barrett, but I probably wouldn’t, if I were you.”

The door swishes open. Most of his things are already in the room, though not unpacked yet. There’s a desk with a computer terminal, a bed, and a small kitchen area with a replicator. There’s also a door, which probably leads to the fresher.

“This is your cabin. Your bathroom adjoins to the next room over. I can’t remember who’s staying there, but you probably won’t run into them too much. Just make sure to lock the door when you’re using it.” Yeoman Anderson taps something onto the replicator. “If you enter in your measurements, the replicator will take care of your uniform. Since you’re not technically a full-fledged member of the crew, you’ll just be in the black uniform, but you  _do_  get a badge.”

“Can it make sweet tea?” Leonard asks, and from the confused way the yeoman is blinking at him, you’d think he’d just asked for a bowl of Klingon grub worms.

“Um, it has Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Jasmine Oolong, there’s a Vulcan blend the captain added in for Ambassador Sarek, a nd one of the engineers programmed in a Chai Latte that’s actually really—”

“I’ll figure something out,” he interrupts. Figures that the stupid thing can manage to crank out a full uniform that fits him like a glove in less than ten seconds but can’t do something that his grandmother could do in her sleep. It’d probably taste lousy, anyway. He’s never been a fan of synthesized food.

“If you don’t have any more questions, I should probably get up to the bridge,” the yeoman says. “When the captain doesn’t get all of her reports filed, it’s  _ me  _ that gets in trouble for it.”

“I think I can figure things out from here,” he says.

“Great. If you need anything else, you can comm me. I know how overwhelming it can be when you’re new on a starship, but I know you’ll settle in fast. We’re like family here.” He heads for the door, then stops and calls back over his shoulder, “And don’t forget to read your briefing!”

The door slides closed after Yeoman Anderson.

Remembering the PADD in his hand, Leonard finally opens up the briefing file and skims over it, stopping at the second paragraph.

_  ‘…responsible for the supervision, safety, and welfare of certain passengers aboard the  _ U.S.S. Legacy  _ during alpha and beta shifts of the subsequent voyage, including  **Montgomery Scott** (file attached),  ** Nyota Uhura ** (file attached),  ** Hikaru Sulu  ** (file attached),  **Christine Chapel** (file attached),  ** Pavel Chekov ** (file attached),  **James Kirk** (file attached), and  **S’chn T’gai Spock** (file attached)…'_

He has to read it over three times before he finally processes it.

He’s here to  _ babysit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I’m lame, I borrowed most of the random crew members from other fandoms, so you might recognize some cameos. (Except, of course, Commander Barrett, who's named after the incomparable Majel Barrett.)
> 
> The next chapter - which should be finished in a few days - will introduce Jim, which I'm sure is what everyone _really_ cares about.


	2. Straight on til Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Tiberius Kirk, age six, has spent most of his life on a Starship, which he will proudly tell anyone willing to listen to him talk for more than a few seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [BadgerInMySoup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BadgerInMySoup) for the beta-read, support, and general cheerleading. All remaining errors are mine. 
> 
> This chapter ended up a lot longer than I meant it to be and it's basically all tooth-rottingly sweet fluff. You've been warned.

James Tiberius Kirk, age six, has spent most of his life on a Starship, which he will proudly tell anyone willing to listen to him talk for more than a few seconds. He was also born on a Starship, but talking about that makes his mom sad, so he doesn’t talk about it much. 

His mom — Captain Kirk, which Jim likes the sound of, and tells her one day he’s going to be a Captain Kirk too — says they don’t usually let kids on Starships, but the _U.S.S. Legacy_ is used mostly for science and exploring and sometimes taking important people from planet to planet, so it’s not as dangerous as some of the other ships. His mom says it’s a good thing, that he should be glad they’re on such a peaceful little ship, but Jim kind of wishes it were less boring sometimes. He’s been out in space his whole life and he’s never even seen a Klingon.

Right now Ambassador Sarek and his wife are staying on their ship. They’re supposed to be on the ship for three months, his mom says, and she tried to explain to him what they were here for but Jim didn’t really understand it. They’re _Vulcan_ , and Jim’s never seen a Vulcan before either, but Yeoman Anderson says they have pointy ears. 

They also have a son that Jim’s mom says is only a little older than him, which Jim is happy about. He’s been the only kid on the ship for a long time, which meant he’s usually with either Yeoman Anderson or Yeoman Brown, and Jim likes them both but they’re both a lot older than him and they usually have a bunch of important things they have to do and don’t have time to play with him. And sometimes he ends up staying with Commander Barrett, but only when he’s bad. Commander Barrett is scary, and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t like him very much.

There are supposed to be a lot more kids on the ship right now. Jim’s mom says that it’s to test how well it goes, that if having full families on the _U.S.S. Legacy_ makes everyone happier and doesn’t _stunt their social development_ or _adversely affect their health_ that they might start letting more families go on Starships together. (Jim doesn’t understand what all of it means, but Yeoman Brown says it’s nothing to worry about, that he just needs to be good and stay out of trouble and let the grown-ups worry about everything else.)

Right now, Yeoman Brown is taking him to meet his mom in the Mess Hall, which Jim thinks is not a good name for it because the last time he made a mess in the Mess Hall he got put in a time out. He likes the Mess Hall, though, because he gets to talk to lots of different people on the ship, and sometimes he can even get people to sneak him extra sweets.

He likes Yeoman Brown, too. She does voices when she reads stories and sometimes she lets him have waffles for dinner if he promises not to tell his mom, but today she’s not eating with him. She leads him to the Captain’s Table, where his mom already has a tray for him, with green beans and chicken nuggets and plain apple slices. With _milk_ to drink, and it’s not even chocolate milk. Jim makes a face.

“Be a good boy for your mom, okay, Jimmy?” Yeoman Brown grins and ruffles his hair before darting off to sit at a table with Yeoman Anderson and one of the navigators.

Jim’s mom is so busy talking to someone Jim doesn’t recognize that she doesn’t notice him at first, which Jim really can’t let her do, so he plops down loudly in the seat beside her and shoves the tray away. 

“I don’t want green beans,” Jim announces. “I want cake.”

“Speak of the devil,” his mom says. She smirks down at him. “Tell you what, if you make all the green beans on your plate disappear, I’ll get you a slice of whatever kind of cake you want.”

Jim scrunches up his nose and pushes the green beans around his tray. He can think of lots of ways to make them disappear, and he’s about three seconds away from not-so-accidentally dropping them on the floor when his mom interrupts him. 

“Cadet McCoy, this is Jim, my son,” Winona says, and Jim abruptly drops his fork back on the plate because he’s pretty sure his mom won’t appreciate his method of making his vegetables disappear. “Jim, say hello to Cadet McCoy. He’s going to be taking care of you and the other kids on the ship during the next few months.”

Jim sits stock-still, staring unblinkingly at Cadet McCoy like he’s only just now realized he’s there, then does what nearly any six-year-old boy does when faced with a stranger and buries his face in his mother’s side.

Winona laughs then. “Don’t let him fool you, Cadet. He’s not the least bit shy, he just likes strangers to think that. Don’t you, Jim?”

Jim peers up at Cadet McCoy, his face half hidden and his hands still fisted in his mom’s gold command tunic. He has a kind face. He smiles at Jim, and Jim gives a bashful little smile back.

“He’s a cute kid,” Cadet McCoy says, and Winona snorts.

“He’s a brat, is what he is,” she says. “Don’t let him trick you with his little cute-and-innocent routine.”

Jim pouts up at his mother. “Am _not_.”

“Oh no?” She grins. “I guess I must have imagined all of that trouble you get yourself into.”

Jim sticks out his tongue at her, and Winona tickles him under his armpits until he squeals and worms out of her arms and under the table. He pops out on Cadet McCoy’s side and hops up onto the bench next to him, apparently over his shyness now.

“Your food looks better than mine,” Jim says, peering over his arm. “Are you gonna eat your potatoes?”

“I was planning on it,” Cadet McCoy says. As if to prove it, he scoops up some of them onto his spoon.

“I’ll trade you my green beans for them,” Jim says, not one to be dissuaded.

“ _Jim_ ,” Winona says. 

“Sorry,” Jim says, insincerely. He kicks idly at the legs of the table. Then, “How about my apple slices?”

“ _No_ , Jim,” Winona says firmly. She pushes his tray across to his side of the table. “And remember you have to eat everything on your tray if you want dessert.”

Jim frowns and starts ripping his chicken nuggets into little pieces and stirring them together with his green beans. Maybe if he makes enough of a mess with his food, his mom will give up and let him have cake.

“D’you really think Starfleet is going to start letting kids stay on Starships?” Cadet McCoy asks, in between bites of his potato salad. “I mean, officially?”

“I hope so,” Winona says. “If not…” She looks down at Jim, and Jim freezes, afraid that she’s going to get mad at him for playing with his food, but she just gives a soft, sad sigh. “My yeomen have been stretched thin as it is, and Jim only has a few more months before he has to start school. It’s bad enough that I have to leave Sam with my brother-in-law, but I don’t think I could take it if…” She trails off, her hands wrapped around her cup.

Jim puts down the fork he’s been using to disassemble his food, looking back and forth between his mom and Cadet McCoy, who seems to hear something in her silence that Jim doesn’t.

“I can’t go back to Iowa,” she says, her voice hard. “I understand this is a lot to put on you, Cadet. I’m sorry.”

“You think Starfleet is expecting this to fail?” Cadet McCoy asks.

“I think Starfleet _wants_ it to fail,” Winona says. “Kids in space — it makes them responsible for their safety. But I can say from personal experience that I’d rather have my boys with me out in space than lightyears away with George’s relatives, waiting weeks between subspace messages just to hear that Sam is acting out again and Frank doesn’t think I discipline my kids well enough. And Cadet McCoy — I _can’t_ go back to Iowa.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Cadet McCoy frowns. “They could have picked a professor, or a ranking officer, or even an academy cadet, but they didn’t.”

“Got it in one.” Winona sighs. It’s a heavy, sad sound, and Jim doesn’t exactly understand everything but he thinks he understands enough.

“So if me and all the other kids are good,” Jim asks, “does that mean Starfleet will let my brother come live on the ship, too?”

“Oh, baby…” Winona gives him a watery smile and reaches across the table, wrapping his tiny hands in hers. “Baby, I don’t know. But I hope so.”

“I don’t want to live with Uncle Frank.” Jim looks up at Cadet McCoy. “I’ll be really good, I promise. And then you can tell Starfleet about how good I was and then they’ll let my brother come live with us, right?”

Cadet McCoy looks at him a little sadly and ruffles his hair, which makes Jim smile. He likes it when grown-ups ruffle his hair. “If there’s anything I can do about it, I won’t let them split you up from your family,” he says.

“You promise?” Jim asks, looking up at him with big, shiny blue eyes.

He hesitates, but only for a moment. “Yeah,” he replies. “I promise.”

* * *

Jim’s mom gets him up bright and early the next morning. She combs his hair, makes him brush his teeth (even though Jim hates to brush his teeth and he doesn’t understand why you have to do it in the morning when you haven’t even done anything except sleep), and tells him he can pick out whatever clothes he wants from the replicator but then says no to him three times anyway because the first two are superhero costumes and she says the third “doesn’t match” even Jim doesn’t really know what that means.

Then because Jim took too long figuring out what to wear they don’t have time to get breakfast in the Mess Hall, so Winona replicates a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin for herself and a pastry filled with eggs and cheese and bacon it for Jim, which he eats happily but trails flaky crumbs of it behind him down the hallway. 

He grips onto his his mother’s hand with sticky fingers as they enter the playroom, which is actually just Rec Room 3, except that now there are a bunch of kids in it and the chess board is packed away.

Cadet McCoy is talking to a woman Jim recognizes as his mom’s friend Amanda, and he’s never met her before but one time he talked to her when she called his mom and every year for Christmas she sends him a toy and candy from Vulcan. (He doesn’t like the candy very much because Vulcan candy is kind of gross but the toys are always really cool puzzle things that Jim is actually really good at.)

There is a Vulcan child standing next to her, his hand held tight in hers. Jim knows he’s Vulcan because he knows Miss Amanda’s husband is Vulcan, but even if he didn’t, the the other boy’s pointy ears would have told him. Jim knows the boy — _Spock_ , he thinks, his mom said his name was Spock — is older than him, but he doesn’t look like it. Jim thinks he maybe might even be a little taller Spock. 

There’s also a dark-skinned girl with short black hair sitting at the piano, plucking out notes in a soft little pattern that goes up, then back down, then back up again. Sitting on the floor near her is another girl, her hair done up in pretty blonde ringlets, a ragdoll clutched tight to her chest. She keeps sneaking little glances at Spock. Jim thinks she’s probably never seen a Vulcan before.

There’s a boy about his age playing with a plastic toy sword, and a much younger boy with floppy curls watching him with with wide eyes from his seat on the sofa. The last boy, who Jim thinks looks about as much like a grown-up as Cadet McCoy, is sitting on the other side of the sofa with his nose inches from some kind of handheld video game.

“Come on, let’s go say hi to Miss Amanda,” Winona says, nudging him out of the doorway. “She’s been dying to meet you in person after all these years.”

Miss Amanda smiles up at Winona and waves when she hears her, which makes Spock and Cadet McCoy look over at him too. And, because the only thing Jim likes better than attention is _more_ attention, he yells, “MISS AMANDA!” and careens across the room, crashing into her and wrapping his tiny arms around her legs.

Miss Amanda laughs and hoists Jim up into her arms, letting go of Spock’s hand to do so. Spock looks at him like he just snatched his favorite toy out of his hands, which is really silly, Jim thinks, because he’d be happy to share _his_ mom with Spock.

“Jim! I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten.” She grins. “You must be almost old enough to drive now.”

Jim giggles and makes a face. “I’m only _six_ , Miss Amanda!”

“Only six!” she gasps, in mock surprise. “You’re shooting up like a weed. I bet soon you’ll be as tall as your mother.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jim says. “Mom is _really_ tall. I’ll have to be really old before I’m that tall.”

Amanda laughs again, looking back at his mom. “Oh, he is just _adorable_ , Winona,” she croons. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for taking so long to introduce us.”

“Oh, sure, he’s very adorable,” Winona says dryly, “and he’s all too aware of it. He’s been using it to get his way since I brought him on the ship.” She looks over at Cadet McCoy. “Don’t let him manipulate you, Cadet. He’ll turn those big blue eyes on you in a heartbeat if he senses weakness.”

As if to prove her point, Jim gives Cadet McCoy the most angelic smile he can muster and leans his head onto Amanda’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes a little too much to be genuinely innocent. Winona rolls her eyes. Cadet McCoy snorts.

“I think I’ll be able to manage,” he says, which Jim thinks sounds an awful lot like a challenge.

* * *

Jim is on his very best behavior today, which of course means that Jim has only gotten in trouble about half as much as usual. It also means, unfortunately for everyone else, that Jim is very bored. So far Jim has had to be told three times to keep his hands to himself — once because Christine said he was trying to steal her doll, which really isn’t fair because he was just trying to _look_ at it, once because Jim and Hikaru got into a play fight that turned into a real fight because Hikaru hits too hard, and once because Jim tried to touch Spock’s ears and Spock went and tattled on him.

And now, because Spock is a big fat tattletale, Jim is stuck sitting on the couch next to Cadet McCoy like a baby. He’s been sitting there for what feels like _forever_ , but Cadet McCoy says if he asks when he can get up again he’s gonna get another minute. It’s not as bad as timeouts with Commander Barrett because at least he gets to sit on the couch instead of standing in the corner, but her timeouts were only two minutes. Cadet McCoy says he has to sit on the couch “until he can learn to be good”, which Jim thinks is pretty dumb because he knows _how_ to be good, he just can’t seem to _do_ it.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Cadet McCoy would give him some kind of toys to play with, but he won’t because he said he wouldn’t learn his lesson that way. Jim starts kicking his feet rhythmically against the base of the sofa, which Cadet McCoy ignores for about ten seconds before he grabs Jim’s legs and holds them still.

“Stop that,” he says sharply, then looks back down at the PADD he’s reading.

Jim huffs, then pulls his legs under him and leans up over the side of Cadet McCoy’s PADD. “Why are you reading a book with a bunch of pictures of bones?”

“It’s the skeletal system,” McCoy corrects him, pushing his head back out of the way off the screen.

“But why are you reading it?” Jim wheedles.

“It’s for a class.” McCoy is trying his best not to look up from his PADD, and that just won’t do.

“What class?” Jim says, sticking his head in the way again and reaching for the screen.

McCoy grabs Jim’s wrist. “It’s for Xenoanatomy and Physiology, and if you try to touch my PADD with your sticky little fingers again, I’m giving you another minute.”

“Why do you wanna take a class about xeno… xenoana…” Jim can’t figure out how to pronounce it and makes a face. “Why do you wanna learn about _bones_?”

“Why d’ _you_ gotta ask so many questions?” McCoy asks, finally looking over at Jim, which has been pretty much the only actual goal he’s had all along.

Jim’s quiet for about three seconds. McCoy must think he’s won because he lets go of Jim’s hand and starts to go back to his PADD.

“Can I call you ‘Bones’?” Jim asks, and Cadet McCoy nearly drops his PADD in frustration.

“Damnit, Jim, just go play.”

“Okay, Bones!” Jim grins. He worms down off the couch and starts to run off, then stops. “You said ‘damn’,” Jim says, very seriously. “That’s a bad word.”

“ _Go play_ ,” McCoy snaps, shooing him away. “And if I have to put you in time-out again before lunch, you’re losing your dessert.”

* * *

Jim doesn’t end up losing his dessert, but it’s a very close thing.

He’s in the middle of building a town out of blocks when Bones calls them in to eat, and Jim is kind of hungry but he mostly wants to finish the tower before he goes to eat because he’s _almost done_.

“Jim, come on,” Bones calls. Jim looks up to see Bones hoisting Pavel into a booster seat next to Hikaru. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Just a second!” Jim snaps a few more blocks in place on the top. He just needs the little topper piece, but he can’t find it. “I’m almost done!”

“ _Now_ , Jim.” Bones grabs Hikaru’s hand when he reaches for his plate. “Nobody’s eating until you get over here.”

“Okay, okay, just let me find the thingie that goes on the top,” Jim rushes, digging frantically through the bucket of blocks. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

“I’m gonna count to three, and if you’re not over here, by the time I finish, you’re not getting your dessert.” 

“Okay, I’m coming!” Jim says, still elbows deep in building blocks. 

“One—”

That’s as far as Bones gets before Jim jerks his hands out of the blocks, sending them flying everywhere. He hops to his feet and dashes toward the kitchen, partially because he doesn’t want to lose his dessert but also because he really doesn’t want to be in trouble again.

Except about halfway there his foot hits something slick and hard, and it slides out from under him with a cracking sound before the back of Jim’s head makes contact with the floor.

His eyes start to water and rubs the back of his head, and he has about half a second to panic that he won’t make it to the table before Bones says three when he realizes exactly what he stepped on because Scotty’s gamePADD is lying under his feet with a crack running about halfway across the screen.

Bones is next to him barely a second later, hefting him by the arms onto the couch and barking at Scotty to get something only he doesn’t hear what, and that’s when Jim starts crying for real.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry it was an _accident_ ,” he wails, “I didn’t mean to break it, I promise I’ll be good, I’m really really sorry.”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay, you’re not in trouble.” Bones kneels down in front of the sofa so that he’s at eye level with Jim. His hands are gentle on the side of Jim’s face, and Jim sniffles a little more but he calms down. “Lean forward and let me see where you hit your head, okay?”

Jim leans down until his chin touches his chest, and Bones’s fingers card gently through his hair until they find where Jim’s head hit the ground and Jim winces.

“Can you tell me how bad it hurts?” Bones asks, and Jim makes an unintelligible little noise in response. “Jim. This is important, okay?”

“I dunno.” Jim reaches up and pats his fingers against the bump on his head, then gives a little yelp. “It kinda hurts, but it hurts more when you touch it.”

He sees Scotty sit a box next to Bones in the floor. A first-aid kit, Jim realizes. Bones rummages around in before swearing under his breath. “What the hell kind of first-aid kit doesn’t have a tricorder?”

“I can fin’ one, if you want,” Scotty says, but Bones waves him off.

“Don’t bother, it’d take too long. Tilt your head up and look at me, Jim.” Bones guides his chin back up until Jim’s eyes are pointing just over the top of his head, then shines a tiny light in his eyes one at a time. Jim squirms and blinks, but Bones doesn’t say anything about it. “You’ve got one heck of a knot back there, but thankfully for you, you’ve got a pretty hard head, so I think you’ll be okay. How’re your knees?”

Jim pulls both of his legs up onto the couch to look at them. Both of them are a little scratched and bruised, and now that he’s thinking about them they do hurt a little bit, but they’re not bleeding. Jim’s had a lot worse.

“Want me to get a dermal regenerator?” Bones asks.

Jim shakes his head. “I think ‘m okay.” He looks up at Scotty. “Sorry I broke your gamePADD,” he says meekly, and Scotty gives him a charmed little smile. 

“Aw, s’ not broken, it’s just a scratch,” Scotty says, picking up the gamePADD and examining the screen. “You cannae even see it, really. ‘Sides, I shouldn’a left it on the floor, anyway. I’m just glad yer not hurt.”

Scotty goes back to the table and sits down between Pavel and Nyota. Bones is standing up to go back as well when Jim raises his arms and whines. 

“You’re big enough to walk,” Bones says.

Jim juts out his lower lip and lets his eyes start to water back up. “My head hurts,” he whimpers, and all the argument drains out of Bones’s face at that. 

“You’re a real pain in the neck, you know that,” he sighs, hoisting Jim up into his arms. “And you’re way too big to be carried, so don’t start trying to make this a habit.” Jim just latches his arms around Bones and presses his face into his chest.

Bones sits him in the empty chair between him and Spock. Jim pouts up at him. “Can’t I sit in your lap?”

“You’re not hurt _that_ bad,” Bones says, sitting down.

“Can I pick dessert?” Jim asks.

Bones glares up at him. “Just eat your food, Jim.”

Jim pouts, but it seems like whatever sympathy Bones had for Jim hitting his head has worn off now. He grabs a fish stick and loads it down with way too much ketchup before shoving it into his mouth.

He gets about halfway through his fish sticks — shoving two or three into his mouth at a time — when he realizes that Spock is staring at him.

“What?” he tries to say, only his mouth is still full, so it comes out a lot more like “Whaff?”

“Your method of eating is most uncivilized,” Spock states. “Are you concussed?”

“BONES! SPOCK CALLED ME A BAD WORD!”

“For the love of god, Jim, you don’t have to yell, I’m right next to you.” Bones gives him a hard look. Jim tries to look apologetic but probably doesn’t succeed. “That’s not a bad word, and stop calling me ‘Bones’,” he says to Jim. Then, to Spock, “And he’s not concussed. He’s just a six-year-old boy.”

“Curious.” Spock glances over at Nyota and Christine, then back at Jim. “Is it customary among humans to excuse male members of the species from table manners while still expecting them of females?”

Jim giggles, and Bones rubs his forehead. “Kid, I’m not the person to ask for that. Just eat.”

Spock starts to go back to his food, which is probably Vulcan because it’s bright orange and smells like grass, then stops again. “Cadet McCoy, what is the Terran significance of classifying certain words as ‘bad’?”

“It means they’re words you’re not supposed to say unless you’re a grown-up!” Jim chimes in. “Grown-ups say them a lot when they’re angry.” He sits up on his knees and leans over Spock’s bowl, his nose inches from his food, and Spock tenses. “Why does your food look weird?”

“It is Vulcan plomeek soup,” Spock replies stiffly. “I would be amenable to sharing if you return to your seat.”

Jim sniffs it, then makes a face. “It smells gross,” Jim says, sitting back down. He crams his last fish stick in his mouth, then shovels his corn in his mouth in two bits and holds up his (mostly) empty plate in front of Bones, the last few kernels of corn dropping onto the floor. “I’m done!” he announces. “Can we have dessert now, please please _please_?”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Bones grabs the plate from in front of Jim. “Sit down and try to stay out of trouble for two minutes while I get your dessert.”

Jim sits as still as he can manage — which mostly involves a lot of fidgeting and kicking at the chair legs — while he waits for Bones to get back with dessert, which turns out to be cupcakes. Most of them are chocolate, except Spock’s, which is strawberry, and Pavel’s, which isn’t a cupcake but something that looks like a block of fudge. Jim tries to trade with both of them — first with Spock, then with Pavel — and Bones stops him both times because apparently Spock’s not supposed to have chocolate and he something in bread makes Pavel’s stomach hurt, which Jim thinks is silly because cupcakes aren’t bread, but then Bones threatens to take his cupcake away if he doesn’t eat his cupcake and stop arguing.

Then Bones says it’s naptime, except Scotty doesn’t have to take a nap because he’s twelve and Spock doesn’t have to take a nap because he’s a Vulcan (which Jim thinks is really unfair) but he does some weird thing where he sits cross-legged with his eyes closed that Jim thinks is maybe kind of like a nap.

Jim is determined not to fall asleep because he’s _six_ and he doesn’t need to take naps anymore and he thinks that maybe if he proves it Bones will let him stay up and play, but his mat is soft and he’s maybe a little bit tired, and Jim is asleep almost the second he lays down.

* * *

Jim wakes up to the sound of grown-ups talking in hushed tones. The world is still blurry and he’s not really awake yet, but one of them is definitely Bones and the other one sounds a lot like Miss Amanda. He stretches and rubs his eyes, and that’s when he sees who Bones is talking to.

Miss Amanda _is_ there, with Spock standing besides her, but so is his mom, and Jim nearly trips over his blankets in his haste to stand up. He dashes toward her and she catches him tightly in her arms.

“Mommy! I only got _one_ timeout today and we got cupcakes only Spock wasn’t allowed to have the chocolate one and I hit my head but it doesn’t hurt I just have a big bump where I fell—”

Winona laughs and gives him a hard squeeze. “Jesus, Jim, slow down and take a breath.”

Jim stops and takes a deep, exaggerated breath, which makes Miss Amanda laugh. Jim looks over at her. “Miss Amanda, why can’t Spock have chocolate?”

Miss Amanda seems to be thinking about something, and shares a look with Jim’s mom. “It’s just — not for children on Vulcan, Jim,” she says, and Jim thinks that sounds kind of mean but Miss Amanda seems really nice most of the time so he just nods.

“Alright, Jim, it’s time to go.” His mom pats him lightly on the shoulder and stands up. “Say goodbye to everyone.”

“Bye, Miss Amanda! Bye, Spock!” Jim hugs Miss Amanda, who ruffles his hair. He makes to hug Spock, too, but Spock freezes and his eyes go really wide.

Winona grabs Jim by the shoulder and gives him a stern look. “Jim, what did we talk about?” she asks, and Jim remembers that he and his mom had a really important talk about other kids not always liking hugs and from the look on Spock’s face he thinks Spock maybe doesn’t like hugs too much. “What do you say?”

Jim scuffs his toe against the floor and doesn’t look up. “Sorry, Spock.”

“It is illogical to apologize for something which did not happen,” Spock says, which Jim thinks is probably Spock’s way of saying that it’s okay. “Is it customary among humans to be so tactile with strangers?”

“We’re not _strangers_ , Spock,” Jim says, because they’ve known each other a whole day and they built a city out of blocks together and Spock even offered to let him have some of his gross Vulcan soup. “We’re friends.”

“I do not believe we have been acquainted long enough to be considered friends,” Spock says.

Jim frowns. “Oh,” he says, and tries not to sound too sad because he’s pretty sure Spock didn’t mean anything bad by it. 

Miss Amanda gives him a sad, kind smile. “Don’t take it personally,” she says to Jim. Then, to Winona, “We’ll see you at dinner tonight.” She takes Spock’s hand, and Spock doesn’t spare so much as a glance back as they leave.

“Come on, Jim,” Winona says gently, squeezing his shoulder and ushering him toward the door. He gets about halfway there before something occurs to him, and he stops and spins on his heel. 

“Wait! I forgot one of my goodbyes!” Jim runs back into the room. Bones is bent over, picking up the last of the toys off the floor, and Jim throws himself around his legs so hard he nearly knocks him over. “G’BYE BONES!” he yells, then untangles himself before Bones even has time to realize what happened, leaving him looking startled. “Okay, all my goodbyes are done, we can go!”

Jim races back toward the door and past his mother, who just grins at the cadet. “ _Bones_?”

“He’ll probably be over it by tomorrow,” Bones grumbles.

Winona just laughs at him before following Jim out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tentative plan is to have at least one chapter that focuses on each child.
> 
> Up next: Spock!


End file.
